


Sunny side up

by BaekMeSomeEggyeol



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance, Seaside, Summer Love, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaekMeSomeEggyeol/pseuds/BaekMeSomeEggyeol
Summary: It fell, just like the shell of a dead cicada falls to the ground by the end of summertime. It fell from his lips : "Should we fuck?"





	1. The thoughts we tought

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this :3

_[It lies in the way your eyes would fall upon me, like the light falls upon vast sea waters. Giving them this peculiar beryl shade - just like this, sunkissed and wind-charmed you’d make me feel, my Sun.]_

  


_[Fuck.]_

  


_[It lies in the way there is blood on my lips, on my hands, on my notes, when I think of you. Obsession. Bloody obsession. The burnt skin of the back of your neck. You have me gone and begone. Loved and beloved.]_

  


_[We fuck.]_

  


_[It lies in the way your thumb would always wander on the curve of my nape afterwards. Slow and gentle wonder of the soul, finger committing to its sensory memory the slide of my moist skin against yours, warm and musky.]_

  


_[And more.]_

  


_[It lies in the way you sound, in the sounds you make. In the song you sing when it's only the two of us and no one else. In the moans you muffle when it's only you and I, and only you and I. In the melody you create when you laugh as I, and only I, whisper in the shell of your ear.]_

  


_[Always more.]_

  


_[It lies in the way your lips never call my name, as you move above me, or as I quiver above you. Plunging themselves in my flesh, everywhere, everywhere but there, they would do everything, everything but whispering my name. My name, and those three sacred human words.]_

  


_[We fuck up.]_

  


_[It lies in the way I always find my way back to you, or in the way you always call me back to you. Nevermind. It’s all the same.. You smile - I yield. I love - you probably don’t. I exhale. You make breakfast after sex - bacon and eggs.]_

  


_[Sunny side up.]_


	2. INTRO #2XXX0718

It starts with the suffocating feeling of summer heat. With humidity like a wet cloth pressed against your mouth, and making you feel as if your only solution to stay alive is to breathe through it. Air doesn’t really come, but you have no other choice. So you just stick to it — try to breathe. But then the cloth seems to grow. Grow. Grow. Envelops your body. It sticks. Uncomfortable. Stinky, even. The heat impregnates every pore of your skin, smothering it, making you feel like hell-kissed. The fires making one with your soul and shell.

And yet, there is nothing you can do.

You feel sticky, sweaty. Breathing is hard, but there’s really nothing you can do. It’s summer. Summer’s always a pain for you. Sp with your thumb, you try to gather the small accumulation of perspiration under your lower lip. It tastes salty. You keep doing it, it’s like never-ending.

  


It rained, earlier on. The air should feel less heavy, but apparently the clouds didn’t let out enough water for it to feel better. You can hear one lonely cicada. It didn’t disappear with the rest of its tribe to hide from the summer shower. Maybe it’s lost. Maybe it’s dying. Its cry, piercing, makes it sound as if it is actually dying. But they are always so loud. Your sister always complains about that, about how loud they are. But you actually love it. It might be one of the sole things you like about summer. The perpetual cry of the cicadas. You say it helps you stay awake at night when you study. You won’t admit they also keep you company.

Make you feel less lonely.

  


“Back from the _hagwon_ , class prez?”

  


The voice startles you. You weren’t expecting it. Although you were probably hoping for it. A bit. You don’t know. In any case, you still, your thumb still pressed under your lower lip. You sigh. So hot. It’s so hot.

  


Byun Baekhyun.

  


He’s there, crouching on the pavement, back resting against the cement wall leading to his house. Snapback worn backwards keeping his long, auburn-gingery hair away from his face. There’s a mischievous glint to his eyes as he stares at you, before taking another lick of his Popsicle.

  


You see it, how it is melting down his fingers, and how there is some of the neon-blue syrup on his lips, making them look glazed and sweet. There’s a smirk dancing on the corner of his lips as he watches you silently, probably waiting for some kind of reaction from you. But you give none. You just stare. You can’t help staring. It’s hot. There’s this cicada hiding somewhere in the trees, and it’s crying crying crying and you feel light-headed from how hot it is and all your eyes can focus on is how Byun Baekhyun’s basketball jersey, slightly too big for him, is hanging loosely on his shoulders, revealing a deep collarbone and toned arms. But that’s not really what you’re looking at. Not exactly.

  


“You alright, class prez?” Byun Baekhyun’s voice is like the chime of those buddhist bells in the temples you visited last year, when your mother decided to take you to Japan. There’s something religious in the way it seems to be always giggling at you, as if mocking how much you worship it them - him. “You look hot,” he keeps talking. You hear him, but it’s as if you don’t. Not exactly. They’re moving, his lips. Blue, blazed and so sweet looking.

 

“Want some?” He asks you, pointing his half-eaten soda popsicle at you, with his nonchalant grace, as if he was handing you an old candy he had found into his pocket randomly. That’s when you startle out of your reverie.

  


And you see it, the popsicle, how it keeps melting, cobalt blue drop drawing a shaky snake down lithe dirty fingers, past a narrow wrist. But your eyes immediately dart back to it - to this place you’ve been staring at for the past two minutes. Your little obsession.

  


It pretty, you think. There’s nothing prettier than the slightly burnt caramel color of it. Of Baekhyun’s nape. It’s the expense of his sun burnt skin, pulled taut above his back muscles, the way it glows under the streetlight. Right, just like slightly burnt caramel waiting to be licked off his skin.

  


It’s hot. So hot. You feel lightheaded. You can’t really think straight.

  


Byun Baekhyun just stuffs the Popsicle back into his mouth, some of it dripping down his chin, and he stares at you. There’s nothing in his eyes, in particular. He’s just looking at you like one would look at a painting that has been hung into their living room since they can remember. They’ve stopped really _looking_ at it. They just stare because there’s nothing else to do.

  


But you are, _looking._

  


You are looking at the way there’s a drop f sweat sliding down the dip of his neck, and trickling backwards, sinking down under his short, leaving behind a small trail of wetness, along the expense of skin that you can’t help but be obsessed about.

  


You are looking at the way he tilts his head, pulls the stick out of his mouth, Popsicle finished, some of it still smeared on his chin, blue and sticky. You are looking, when his chemical sugar glazed lips start to move again, smacking before the words tumble out of them.

  


“Should we fuck?”

  


Now you are looking at him, his back, as the both of you walk into his silent house.

  


That’s how it started, you try to convince yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but for now it's just a WIP. I'll see if I post more of this AU, I have some more written, but not the whole story yet. I'm really attached to it, though.   
> Thank you for reading :3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm definitely not a poet but, oh well.


End file.
